


Prometheus

by JoAsakura, silvermittt



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, mebb 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermittt/pseuds/silvermittt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nameless, broken man with a duty he cannot remember fights to survive in a horrific wasteland. That is, until he meets a very strange ghost who leads him on an adventure he will never forget.</p><p>Art by the phenomenal Silvermittt</p><p>MASS EFFECT BIG BANG 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prometheus

 

 

~~

**ONE**

_It is not the first time he's woken up at the foot of the mountain, rubble digging through the broken grey shards of his armour, sky bleeding red through the swirling clouds so high above._

_He is not weak, nor powerless. The blue flames of some nameless power crackles at his left hand, and a sword of fire and light made solid lies in the gravel to his right, shining like a tiny shard of a forgotten sun._

_He has made the climb up this mountain a thousand thousand times. Flesh torn by sharp rocks and the sharper teeth of the nameless dark beasts that swarm, biting and tearing, on the ascent. He slips on ice colder and burns on sand hotter than one aching body can withstand._

_And each time, after countless battles and effort, he sees it, the summit. The Black Castle at its peak, grasping it as if with claws of the most impenetrable night._

_He doesn't know what lies within, only that he must reach it. It calls to him, shrieks at him, in words too distant for understanding._

_The struggle has taken everything from him. His name, his country, any god or king he'd sworn himself to.  It has left him with nothing but the need to complete his quest. The mountain has broken him._

_And as he picks himself up for the thousandth thousandth and one time, out of the rubble at the foot of the mountain, squinting at the sky bleeding through the dark clouds so high above, he sighs, and sets his aching body to the task once more._

~~

It wasn't the first time he'd woken up at the foot of the mountain, broken and bleeding.

It was, however, the first time that he'd woken up to the presence of another.

At first, the sight was so alien and terrifying, that he tried to scream, but he'd long forgotten how to make any noise, so all that came out was a parched little squeak as he scrabbled back across the gravel, right hand blindly flailing for his sword.

The figure simply remained kneeling, dark blue cloak spread out around it on the rocks like a pool of cool, deep water. "It looks like you're having a bad day."  A man's voice, rough and soft as the wool he wore, said from the shadows. At least he thought it was a man's voice. It had been so long since he'd heard his own that he couldn't make a comparison. It had been so long since he'd considered himself as anything but a piece of the mountain.

But it was a man's voice.  Like his may have been once. Or maybe nothing like it. But he wanted to hear it again, a balm on his wounds.

"I'm going to stand up now." The man in the cloak said calmly, heavy fabric rustling against the blasted ground. "May I come closer?"

He nodded, lifting his hand from the shining sword's hilt. If this was a new kind of enemy, one who radiated calm and still waters from his very core, then the broken man - for that was how he began to orient himself in relation to this stranger who was so very *not* - was ready to give in at last.

He closed his eyes, but no final blow came from that stillness. Only a cool hand on his burning skin, and the press of something...a bottle... to his cracked lips. (He thought he remembered bottles, once. Filled with whiskey that burned sweetly on the tongue with lover's blue-sparked kiss. Filled with water to clear the taste of burnt copper from a tired throat. Filled with sour medicine when  the pain overtook everything.)

This was all of that, and more. He hadn't realised how beyond thirsty he was until the first swallow had turned into an empty flask, the last drops draining away before he’d tasted the first.

The broken man opened his eyes then, and for the first time in an eternity, found a fraction of his voice. "I'm sorry." he rasped.

"It's ok. " Fingers stroked his cheek, tracing scars he couldn't see, pausing as the broken man jerked to his feet. "Wait, what are you doing?"

The Broken Man, because that's who he had become - no name but a place that one might start, at least - picked up his sword and climbed again.

~~

**TWO**

He fell a hundred more times. A thousand.

Maybe it was only once. The Broken Man couldn't tell, and time stretched into an infinite moment here as the Mountain broke his bones and tore his flesh.

But when he opened his eyes, he wasn't lying in rubble, bleeding but never dead. His head rested on a lap under a soft cloak, and a gentle hand brushed back his hair. The voice asked from the shadows of the hood:  "Why do you keep doing this?" even as the hand stroked his forehead.

"It has to be me.  Someone else might get it wrong," he rasped. They weren't his words, but he understood the duty.

It was his duty. It was all he had.

"You don't have to do it alone." The bottle was lifted to his lips, and this time the Broken Man just drank a little, savouring the taste of the liquid.

The storm was a dead, dry thing of parched howling winds at the mountain's freezing peak. The sharp rocks below were blazing hot. For an eternity, he had known nothing else. He had forgotten water, and each slow sip now was like the memory of a raindrop on his skin.

"Please help me," he whispered, eyes aching with the ghost of tears forgotten.

"Then let's find another way up that mountain," the man in blue said, gently helping him to sit up.

"I... I don't understand," the Broken Man said, trembling fingers closed around the container of water.

The man in the cloak stood, fabric whispering softly against the stones, and held out a gloved hand. "I followed you to hell, now it's time for you to follow me back."

~~

**THREE**

He panicked as they began to walk in a direction he hadn't known existed - one where the mountain and its dark castle and howling winds were at his back.

Five steps and he froze, the pull of his mission like iron chains dragging him down.

Slowly, the Broken Man turned, the bottle of water slipping from his fingers as the storm roared his name, words he couldn't understand, but knew nonetheless. It shattered on parched ground, glass and liquid and he didn't know which was which anymore, which would hurt and which would heal.

One step towards the jagged stones biting at the swirling sky, then another. There was nothing else for him. He had to finish it.

(It has to be me. It has to be me. It has...)

"SHEPARD."

[burning cold so cold broken shards of alien metal pinned like a bloody butterfly on the altar of a dead race and a child is screaming in rage and I never wanted this iI never wanted this choice and please don't make me...]

The bottle of water was still in his trembling grip, and the desert was behind them. A strong  hand was on his shoulder, the one calm place in the raging storm at their backs. "Where... are we?" he whispered, confused at the scene before him.

A thick tangle of trees, leaves turning red and gold, rose up in front of them, blotting out the sky. There was no thunderous storm here, no burning rocks or black bugs tearing at his flesh.

"We'll stop here for the night. You must be tired," the man in blue said as he led them down a small hill.

He didn't understand at first, the concept of Night. There had only been the unending red sky churning above for as long as he could remember.  But as they sat, he looked up at soft purple light drifting through the heavy leaves.

They gathered sticks and he found he could light a fire with the brilliant sword at his hip. And as an unfamiliar heaviness took him, he found himself wrapped in soft, dark wool.

"A soft place to land," he whispered as he buried himself in the comfort of the cloak and the body within it.

His companion chuckled gently as the Broken Man lifted his face, just a little, to meet a kiss in the shadows of that deep hood.

Warmth flooded him, as if for the first time in a million years his heart began to beat, pushing fresh blood to long dead limbs with each brush of another's tongue against his, each tingling rasp of teeth against his fragile skin...

He blinked, lashes brushing against a hand covering his eyes. "I'm only a ghost. It's too soon to see," came the quiet voice against his ear.  The Broken Man thought he understood - so he pressed his eyes tight shut as his hands slid underneath the hood, fingers tangling with thick hair as they kissed.

The crackle of the fire, two bodies breathing hard in the darkness.

But somewhere he thought he heard the mountain screaming. "I should go," the Broken Man said suddenly. "I have to... I have to..."

Anything else he or The Ghost might have said was forgotten in the shriek that came from the deep woods.

~~

They both untangled and scrabbled to their feet. The Broken Man drew his sword with his right hand and called on the magics with his left as the creature came crashing through the underbrush.

"WAIT NO DON'T SHOOT," it squawked, a giant bird of polished stone, blue and silver feathers glinting as it stamped the ground with its massive claws. One side of its face was an improbable tangle of scars. "Well, not me. Don't shoot me. But you should shoot THEM as I can't because I don't have any fingers or a gun or, great spirits, youu..." The bird stopped, eyes narrowing as it looked past the man's shoulder. " You... You don't  have a gun either..." It gibbered slightly. "But you don't need a gun I guess and..."

The Broken Man would have asked who he should be shooting, if not for the giant spiders, gelatinous sacs wobbling on their spindly black frames, who came flailing through the trees. Acid hissed in their wake, boiling the earth beneath their pointed feet.

"Fuck," said the Stone Bird.

He had fought against their kind on the mountain, knew too well how they would rend his flesh. How five would spring up from where he felled one. But this time, as he destroyed one, at his right hand, the hooded Ghost burnt them with blue fire not unlike his own. At his left, the Stone Bird peppered them with sharp-edged quills and stamped them with its claws.

When it was over, the spiders lay twitching on the seething ground, and the three stood victorious over them. He thought about what the Ghost had said. (You don't need to do this alone.)

"I'm not alone," he said quietly as the Stone Bird preened beside him.

"You never were," the Ghost whispered.

~~

**FOUR**

When he woke, again not in the broken rubble at the foot of the mountain, at first he didn't know what to do. But his head rested in the Ghost's lap, and the Stone Bird snored dramatically, nestled at his side as morning pushed through the trees above.

Somewhere, beyond the edge of the forest, the mountain still called his name, but the weight of the others kept him still.

Carefully, he nudged the Stone Bird, and it muttered, half-asleep. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of some calibrAGH..." The Bird squawked, suddenly awakening fully. "I mean..."

There was a moment as the Bird flailed ridiculously, and then something extraordinary happened.

The Broken Man laughed - a sound that bubbled out from a place inside of him that he hadn't known existed.

Then he froze. At first, it was as much a panicked surprise as it had been when he'd woken with the Ghost watching over him, this harsh and unfamiliar sound barking out of his chest.

But it felt... good.  So he laughed again, watching the confused look on the Stone Bird's face. When he finally stopped, his companions were both looking at him, and he cleared his throat, feeling his face redden with unfamiliar emotion.

"So, you saved my life," the Bird intoned, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. "You're on a journey? I can help, you know, to repay you."

The Broken Man thought on how the three of them had fought the spiders together so beautifully. "I'm..." He paused, then looked at the Ghost, unmoving in his dark cloak. "We're on our way to find another path up the Black Mountain. There's something I need to do up there. I would be happy if you joined us, but it might be dangerous."

"Us. Okaay. Well, then." The Bird cocked its head. "I'd be happy to help." It paused, as if considering something. "...who are you, anyways?"

The Broken Man paused. "I... I don't know. Maybe that's what's up in the Castle." He said after a moment, the Ghost's hand a comfort on his shoulder. "I just know I have to find whatever's up there."

"You... ah... you should follow me, then." The Stone Bird straightened. "I know where we can get some help."

~~

"Bosh'tet!" A young woman's voice rang through the quiet woods as they made their way down a gentle slope. "You bring that back right now! You're not supposed to do that!!"

Earlier, they had found a chest on the side of the road - a heavy square box of worm-eaten wood and blackened metal. The Ghost had opened the lock easily with his magic, and The Broken Man had found, within, part of a suit of armour. It was a dark grey, not unlike his own, and the chest plate replaced the badly damaged one he wore, perfectly.

It bore a crest - symbols he knew he should know, but which had ceased to have any real meaning to him - a crest his old one had long lost.

It felt good and solid on his body, like a piece of a puzzle that had been missing. The Ghost had leaned into him and whispered with a smile in his voice, "It looks good on you," and the Broken Man felt that unfamiliar burn dust across his face again.

He barely heard the mountain screaming in the distance at all.

Now, a metal dog, joints clanking wildly, pounced on the party. One glowing eye flashed as it grabbed the damaged chestplate and bounded away with it, a young woman racing up the hill after it.

Wheezing, she stopped on the road beside them, hands on her knees. "That was not how that was supposed to have gone," she muttered, fine purple and gold robes shining in the dappled sunlight. Then she looked up, and the Broken Man was startled. Her face was hidden by a jeweled mask, polished and blank except for two bright eyes deep within. "There you are." There was a hint of a smile behind the mask, her eyes crinkling. "I've been waiting for you!"

"You were?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course." She paused, squinting into the distance. "I don't think it's coming back with your armour," the Masked Maiden said after a moment. "Sorry about that."

"It's ok," he said without thinking. "There was a hole in it, anyways."

~~

**FIVE**

They had travelled so far, through deep forests and rolling plains, that the Broken Man no longer even quite knew what direction the mountain lay in.

That had frightened him at first. He wasn't sure what to do, but the Ghost' s strong hand twined with his gave him strength, and he resolved to push onwards.

The Masked Maiden created mechanical wonders to help them fight as they encountered hideous husks that shambled out of a nearby swamp to attack them one night. As they fought - the Stone Bird and the Masked Maiden to his left, the Ghost at his right - they defeated the new monsters with ease.

At the edge of the swamp, he found another crate - worm-eaten and rotten as the first. In it was a leg for a suit of armour, and he fitted it on, in place of the one the mountain had destroyed.

If they turned back around, they could find their way back to the mountain, he thought, watching as the Stone Bird fussed over one of the Maiden's contraptions. The four of them would be unstoppable. Then, the Ghost's hand brushed his, and his thoughts stopped.

"It's not time yet," the Ghost said gently, hand sliding up the Broken Man's arm until fingertips were brushing along his stubbled jaw. "Soon, ok?"

"I trust you."  The Broken Man shook his head. "Why?"

"They say that asking questions is the sign of a healthy mind," the Stone Bird said, clomping alongside of him. "Although I doubt anyone here is quite right in the head," it added before the Maiden kicked it in the ankle.

"You didn't need to come with us," the Broken Man said to her as the Bird's rocky face made a comically hurt expression.

"Let's just say I've been on a pilgrimage of my own," she laughed. "Besides, you're going to need more help if you're going to scale that mountain." Her mask glinted in the sun as they made their way from swampland to a rolling plain. "And I know where you can get some."

"I hope I can find some way to repay all of you," the Broken Man said, his fingers lightly brushing against the Ghost's. "I thought I was alone. All this time."

"And now you're not," The Bird muttered, embarrassed by the attention as the Broken Man patted his side.  "Although hands would have been nice."

"Maybe if you're a good bird, I'll build you some." The Maiden leaned in and the Broken Man felt his face pull again in an unfamiliar smile.

"It's good to see you smile again," the Ghost whispered in his ear, but before he could respond, the man in the dark cloak had already walked away.

~~

They had travelled days and nights (he was still not used to that - for an eternity, there had only been red clouds boiling at the peak of the mountain. Here, away from that, the skies were open and blue as magic during the day. At night, distant lights winked and wheeled through the dark overhead. He had touched them once, he was sure of it.) Sometimes, they fought monsters, and other times they ran for their lives - laughing like children - before they came upon a ruined cathedral, buttresses rising up from the rolling plain like sharp teeth.

An unearthly sound echoed forth, and the Broken Man pulled free his sword. The Maiden and the Bird went in one direction, and he followed the Ghost in the other. Cautiously, he peered through the corner of a broken window, the stained glass throwing splinters of coloured light and shadow into the chamber beyond.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. Ghouls wandering about, moaning and crying - or more of the spiders and their hideous, pulsing sacs.

But it wasn't that at all.

A great table, festooned in flowers and laden heavily with golden ware full of every kind of food and drink imaginable. Blue-skinned faeries, wings sparkling like jewels in the coloured light, flitted about.

At each end of the table, a woman in blue armour sat.  Their faces were covered in a helm like the sweeping tentacles of some great sea-creature, but one, draped in girlish veils, languidly toyed with her food while the other sat rigid, chained in place to her seat.

"This doesn't seem right," he whispered to the Ghost.  "We have to check this out," he added as they crouched below the sill, and he thought he saw the quirk of a smile in the other's deep hood.

"Can't stop you from doing a good deed, can we?" he said with a short laugh. "You are becoming more yourself each day."

"We can worry about that later," the Broken Man said, not understanding at all. "We should go."

 

~~

**SIX**

He burst through the window with the Ghost close behind him, but even as the glass shattered around him, the woman did not flinch.

"It's taken you quite long enough to get here," the younger one purred, pushing away from the table. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost..."

Delicate veils curled around her glittering armour as she strode over to him. "You should choose me this time." Her words were sweet, coating everything in a golden glaze and the Broken Man went to her without realising it.

Her helm covered her face completely, but the shining steel was sculpted into a beautiful mask. Her metal lips were cool and hard on his as she dragged him down into  a parody of a kiss.

Behind him, he distantly heard the older Knight shouting, her voice sharp. "This is not what it appears! She is not..."

But in the next moment, the Broken Man was knocked back as the Ghost tackled the younger Knight. "Free her!" he shouted back as the Broken Man fell to his knees.

"You have no more substance than I do, here, little ghost," the young Knight said. "Less even. Do you have any idea how long I've waited here, a lost little fragment of who I was? Biding my time until..."

The Broken Man blinked, as he picked himself off the floor, the faeries swarming about him. The older woman was right. Things were not as they had seemed.

~~

The table was a filthy thing, covered in putrefying fruits and maggot-laden meats, and the delicate, flitting faeries were grey-skinned ghouls - all sagging flesh and emaciated limbs, sharp jaws snapping at him as he scrambled away from them towards the chained woman.

The thing the Ghost wrestled with was little more than a monster herself - the broken carcass of something, someone, once beautiful and now twisted beyond recognition. A shockwave of power thundered from his hand, pushing the ghouls back long enough to free the Blue Knight from her bonds.

"You have my thanks, Commander..." she said, but he could no longer hear her.

[So much blood and it wasn't all his, and he was blind and deaf and burned from the blast and there was so much blood no matter how he tried to staunch it. (Don't leave me.  Don't leave me. Please don't...)]

"SHEPARD~!"

He was sitting outside the ruins when he came back to himself, trembling on the damp ground as his friends looked down at him. Although he couldn't  see her face, the Blue Knight seemed abashed, head cast down in some unaccustomed shame. The Ghost cradled him, cloak around his shoulders and the bottle in his hand. The Broken Man took a sip, hands shaking violently as he did.

"I. I think," he said, hesitantly. "I think my name... might be Shepard," the Broken Man said, the word sitting bitter on his tongue.

~~

**SEVEN**

He was still turning the word over in his mind as they reached a small village. On the way, the Blue Knight found another chest - it gave him armour for his left arm, replacing the one that had long been stripped away by stones and claws.

The growing weight of his suit was comforting, but the new word he'd learned was not. The name was full of incomprehensible grief and he did not want it. But it stuck in his craw and the harder he pushed it away, the stronger it clung.

The pain of it dulled, though, when the Ghost took his hand. "I have to go back to the mountain," he said as they followed the others into a busy inn, the walls draped with star-covered banners. "The answer is there."

"Not yet." The Ghost's hand tightened on his. "You're not ready."

"How do you know?" Shepard said miserably, the name weighing on him like a million thorns. "Who are you?" he asked, the question digging into his throat like the name that chafed at him.

"I'm the guy who's gonna get you to where you gotta go," said the very large Mouse in a very large hat, glaring up at him.

By this point, Shepard didn't know why he was still surprised.

~~

"At least you have hands," the Stone Bird said bitterly, dunking his beak into a bowl of green wine.

The Mouse was an angry little rodent and it glared at Shepard as they all sat around a booth in the crowded inn. "So, seriously, you..." it yelped, then glared at the Maiden across the table as it rubbed its shin. "You need me to get you to your mountain? That's me, I'm just the best bus driver around."

"I need you." Shepard looked up from his fizzy purple drink and his face twitched into a scowl. There were so many people here, but they were indistinct, faces a sea of sameness he couldn't quite separate out. Their conversation a constant white noise murmur in the background.  For a moment, he fought the urge to wander around and listen in.  Learn all of their little stories and hear all of their little worries.

But it also felt like they were watching him out of the corners of their eyes - eyes he couldn't find in the blur of faces. He shifted uncomfortably, then focused back on his companions.

"Sure you do. That's what Ga... that's what big bird was saying earlier." The Mouse shifted uncomfortably under the man's gaze. "Right?  Or is that stick up your ass making it too hard to talk?"

"If I had a stick up my ass, I would beat you with it right now." The Bird narrowed its eyes at the Mouse.

"If you had hands," The Mouse shot back and Shepard laughed. The sound still startled him. It still felt alien to feel his face curve into a smile. But it was coming easier each time. Maybe the Ghost was right. Maybe he was becoming more of himself.

But if that was true, then why did the name hurt so badly? He needed the Ghost, and the cloaked man was nowhere to be seen. "If you'll excuse me," he'd said, getting up from the table as the others watched. "I need to get some air."

Shepard found him outside, looking up at the stars. "This may sound strange," he started as the man in the cloak turned to him. "But I just realised - if I have this name. This word - Shepard. If that's mine, do you have one?  Do the others? I never even thought to ask. I thought I was alone in this world, but there's so much more here than I could imagine." He shook his head, unsure of the feelings churning in his chest.

"You're capable of imagining more than you give yourself credit for," the Ghost laughed. The sound was rich and husky. "But as for us? We're all as you see. Don't worry about names, alright? It'll make sense eventually."

"I feel lost without you," Shepard said, leaning into the other's warmth.

"I won't ever let you get lost again, I promise," the Ghost said gently, cupping Shepard's face with his hands.  "I'll always watch over you." The words trailed off as their lips met - the kiss a lingering electric spark against his tongue. "Close your eyes."

"Why can't I see you?" Shepard said softly.

"It's not..."

He startled when he heard the Blue Knight clear her throat behind him. "It is time to go," she said, eyes sharp behind her gleaming helmet. "When... you are ready, of course."

"... of course," Shepard said, but the moment had passed and the Ghost was silent at his side.

~~

**EIGHT**

The Mouse took them deeper into the woods where blackened trees reached bony bare fingers up to the grey sky. The air had a metallic tang to it, the taste of snow soon to appear.

[A flash of memory, trudging through a crisp, white world, cheeks burning from the cold, someone's hand grabbing his as they slipped. They should have packed sweaters.]

He knew what snow was, even if it had been an unremembered lifetime since he'd seen it.

In the large coach, his companions chatted and bickered like old friends, and he watched them intently. Each new person who joined them made him feel closer to whole, like the fragments of shining new armour that replaced the shattered fragments he wore.

Less broken, more like whatever a Shepard was, he thought. He just hoped it wasn't a terrible thing.

They'd been travelling for days, battling the ghouls and spiders that lurked in the forests and swamps. They crossed through a region where colourful fish swam from the sky and toy ships sailed along the ground.  And each day they grew closer, falling into familiar battlefield rhythms.

Shepard thought he could do this forever. There was such joy in the company, even when the fights were hard. He thought he didn't need to go back to the mountain and the castle that loomed at its peak.

Except the thought of it was there, always there, in the back of his brain. He understood the words it had howled on the wind now.

It had been calling his name, and hinting at all the painful memories that had associated with it.

Each night they gathered around the fire, sharing stories of love and loss. His companions laughed amongst themselves, and Shepard longed to hear their stories.  But always, the Ghost remained apart.

Shepard had noticed the Ghost didn't share his stories, and their companions never solicited them from him. In fact, they never spoke to him at all. And so, as the others huddled by the fire in the dark, Shepard went to the Ghost's side.

Alone together in the shadows, they bundled in the warmth of the heavy blue cloak. A warmth he could feel even through the heavy armour he wore.

Ghost's hands traced the paths where the stones had carved gouges into his flesh and broken his bones.  Under his touch, the mountain's taunting faded, just as the scars did. A little slice of peace amidst the chaos.

Ghost's lips were soft against his closed eyes. "I loved you from the first moment I saw you." The words fell against his skin gently. "Shepard."

"Why can't I see you?" Shepard asked as Ghost's cheek brushed against his eyelashes. "And the others..."

"It's not time yet," as always, came the reply.

But on this fifth day, the air smelling like snow, they came through the trees to the edge of a great wasteland and his heart dropped.

Somewhere across that empty plain lay the Mountain again. They'd travelled in a great circle and would end up where he had begun.

~~

Their adventures continued through the wasteland. They rescued the brash, red-scaled Dragon King from a great, sand-dwelling wyrm. The Dragon King had huffed a sulphurous laugh and slapped Shepard so hard on the back, it had sent the man flying.

With the Dragon King's help, they discovered an irritable Bug, caught in a web woven from hideous insects made of bundled corpses. It had complained the entire time they fought, but then had grudgingly agreed to come with them.

Soon, the snow began to fall, and in a hellish prison, they joined forces with a faceless Witch who wore her thoughts on her skin, moving pictures she cast on soldiers with armour made from fragments of a sun bluer than the sky.

With the help of a beautiful Hooded Thief, they stole a map of the world from a troll with a cave full of treasures. At each turn, he found another fragment of his armour - a glove here, the other leg there, until all that was left was his left arm, sheathed in magic, but bare of the gleaming grey that protected the rest of him.

At night, the Mouse told stories of a clockwork girl he had known and mourned. The Thief carried the Spirit of Love in a box. They met an Old Soldier and a Young one.

He had found so many companions. They had long ceased to be a simple travelling band of strangers. They had become an army - brought together in a common ground they'd never had before.

In villages full of the indistinct, multitudes whose faces he couldn't ever quite make out, they knew them.  They cheered them, and pawed at them and sang songs about them in the taverns.

They all thought they knew him, and Shepard was afraid.

~~

**NINE**

"Well, according to the map, Shep, there's a tower up ahead. I think we should check it out," the Thief teased from her perch on the roof of the coach. Moments before, she'd been busily tracing the Young Soldier's armoured muscles with her fingertips. "I bet there's all sorts of interesting things there." He took the momentary distraction to squirm away from her.

Shepard and Ghost rode on the back of the Dragon King, who had been in the process of telling a long and horribly involved joke about testicles when the Thief piped up.

"It's about goddamn time," the Old Soldier said, stinking cigar smoke coiling from the mouth of his helm. "If I gotta hear one more krogan dick joke, I'm not going t'be held responsible f'r my actions."

"In my cycle, jokes about reproductive organs were punishable by death," the Bug sniffed as the Witch snorted loudly. The pictures on her skin made a rude gesture before forming a cartoonish image of a big-breasted princess in a prison cell.

Shepard and the others laughed as the Dragon stomped his affront. Then he sobered, the Ghost's arms tight around his waist, and his breath a warm comfort on the back of his neck. "And then after that?"

The Thief and the Maiden looked at each other, and the Young Soldier coughed. "It's the Mountain. We'll come to it soon."

Shepard nodded. After all, every journey had to end. He understood that now.

~~

The tower was tall, shining with stars set into its very stones. At its base was a three-headed hound with burning golden eyes. Blank-faced warriors, their skin as grey as any Ghoul's, shambled blindly in the fields surrounding it.

By now, they all knew what to do - some would draw off the zombies, others would find another way into the tower. Some were strong, some were clever, and each of the companions knew where their skills would be of the most use.

And while each of them did that, Shepard would face the worst of it, head-on. He charged the giant hound, a fast blue blink that would strike and withdraw before the creature could turn. With each adventure, he'd grown stronger, more sure of himself, and his blade flashed like the sun while sparks danced on his skin.

But the hound was not the end of it. As they each fought their way into the tower, it became clear that it had only been a pet of the Necromancer who waited for them within. His eyes were glass beads full of lightning, and smoke curled from his charred-black face.

"Shepard. You can't beat me," the Necromancer drawled as his zombies threw themselves at the party. "Because I made you. You're only as real as I allow you be."

"Don't listen to him, Shepard." Ghost's voice was sharp in his ear. "You're real enough for me."

That gave him all the strength he needed.

~~

**TEN**

In the tower, as the Thief ran giggling through the halls draped in stolen gems,  and the Stone Bird pawed sadly at a collection of exotic weapons, Shepard and the Ghost found a Princess and a Prince.

They both wore tall crowns and golden masks and he thought they were the most perfect people he had ever seen.

"We both owe you so much," the Princess said, taking one of Shepard's hands in hers. "Even this. I don't know if it's enough, Shepard."

"But we gotta try," the Prince added as he took the other. "Look, I am so sorry about..." He stopped, words faltering under the Princess's sharp glare. "Sorry, Shepard."

"It's ok." He said, glancing over to where the Ghost stood nearby. "I've been told before that it's not time yet. I've waited a thousand years, I can wait a little longer."

~~

They gathered fresh supplies, and rested in the tower before they set off again.

Even though no one had said as much, he understood that this was the point of no return. Once they left here, there would be no turning back, no chance to do or see anything else.

"I'm scared," he said that night, as the Ghost helped him out of his armour, and he stood naked before a man whose face he had never seen. "That I'll never know your name. That I'll fail and nothing will change or that everything will." He closed his eyes, and listened to the soft rasp of Ghost's cloak as it fell to the floor.

"Do you trust me?" the Ghost asked.

"More than anything in the world," Shepard answered.

"Then let me distract you one last time." Ghost's voice was sun after a storm, was everything warm and good after a long cold winter.  His bare hand splayed across Shepard's chest as he gently pushed him to the bed, springs creaking under their combined weight.

After the kisses, after lips and fingertips seeing each other clearer than any eye could ever, the Ghost fit into him perfectly, pushing deep with each thrust of his hips. Shepard's fingers dug into his back, body bent almost double under the other man's weight. They whispered  lovers' nonsense to each other as they came together over and over - laughter and cries lurching out of Shepard with every shudder and jerk of his body.

"I love you," one of them said, and it was enough until the morning.

~~

**ELEVEN**

He was a different man when the road finally led them to the black mountain. From their approach, it wasn't the sheer cliff he'd thrown himself against again and again. The road was rocky and steep to be sure, and it was dark with crawling beasts.

But he was not alone.

Shepard turned back to look at the people who followed him. The Stone Bird. The Masked Maiden. All of them. More than an army, they were his friends.

And the Ghost who was so, so much more than that.

Ghost's hand squeezed his own briefly, and he nodded. "Thank you. Thank you all."  The words were feeble things, Shepard knew that. He understood they had sacrificed for him, had followed him to hell and now he had to lead them back. "There's no way I can ever repay you."

He looked at Ghost one last time, drawing strength from the man he'd never seen, but knew he loved with every aching cell in his body. "Let's end this."

~~

Each step up the mountain was hard-earned. The Stone Bird and the Dragon King rent the scrabbling monsters with their claws. Where claws failed, The Blue Knight and the Bug burned them with magic, and where magic failed the Maiden's machines attacked them from above and the Mouse's coach trampled them under its wheels. Weapons and powers and a singular unity of purpose.

Shepard understood now, as he could have never before. No matter how great the magic he worked or how sharp the sword he swung, he had just been one man.

No one could face what he had to alone.

He had always needed them. Had depended on them. And when the Ghost's power, twined with his own, tore down the last barrier, he saw their goal looming high into the raging red clouds.

The Black Castle.

~~

**TWELVE**

He had expected guards. More monsters. Something. Anything except for the total silence that met them here. There was no wind or sound in the eye of the storm, just the dead black spire that rose up, vanishing into the darkness above.

Their boots on the rocky ground made no sound, and only Ghost's hand in his reassured him that he wasn't alone in this place.

The only sound was his own pulse beating hard in his ears.

The chest was sitting in the middle of their path, not rotted or worm-eaten like the others had been, but sturdy and new, and Shepard slowly knelt in front of it. "I'm afraid to open it," he said to Ghost as the others gathered around.

"It's ok," the other man said. "It's time for you to finish putting yourself back together, John."

The chest opened with a mighty creak, like alien metal tearing, and he pulled out the missing arm to his suit.  It was the same dull-gleaming charcoal as the rest of his armour, but with a stripe of red and white down the side.

With a deep breath, he fit the last piece on.

And he knew. For every battle they'd fought as a team, there was one final thing he needed to do alone.

"Will I ever see you all again?" he asked miserably, the stripe on his armour shining.

"We will always be here for you, Commander," the Bug said solemnly. "We always have been. Our strength will always be yours."

Shepard straightened. "Let's end this, then."

~~

He hadn't realised the Ghost had followed him in, until the heavy doors had slammed shut behind him. "You should go," Shepard said, even as they heard a heavy tread of footsteps approaching. Each step shivered the torches that lined the hallway, flames sparking in red and green and blue.

"You're not leaving me behind,"  the Ghost said. "At least not for this."

Shepard's next words died in his throat as the final enemy approached them.

He had expected a monster. But what he faced was a man.  It took him a long moment to realise what he was looking at. The short brush of reddish hair, the sharp blue eyes, and the faint lattice of scars that cut across his cheekbones and jaw - they were his.

"You're me." Shepard said. "That's.. that's my face."

"I'm you, improved. The one that should have been, the one that will leave this place while you go back to throwing yourself at the mountain like a bird against a window," his double said, dull-gleaming armour shining in the firelight.

"You're all alone." Shepard took a step forward, drawing the sword at his side.

"I don't need anyone." His double drew his own, and they both brought their magics to life.

"And that's why you'll always fail. I could never face this on my own," Shepard said through gritted teeth as sword and powers clashed. "They make me strong, and I will not fail - especially not to YOU!"

All around them, as they fought, the Castle began to crumble. Huge chunks of masonry crashed down and the floor caved away, leaving chasms in its wake. For all his bravado, they were evenly matched - flashing golden blades ringing out in the thunderous collapse of the Castle around them.

Then Ghost's voice was in his ear.  "I believe in you, Shepard. I always did." And he looked, just for a moment.

The hood had finally fallen back, and he saw the Ghost's face. Full lips pulled into a sad smile, thick dark hair and too much stubble. Eyes like the sun through the best whiskey, burning sweet on the tongue.

[Kaidan's body warm and heavy against his in his quarters in the Normandy, driving away the nightmares as they headed to that final battle.  Kaidan's hands, rough and strong, twined with his as they kissed in a Citadel flat. Pouring out his heart over  sandwiches at Apollo's. Lying broken on Mars. Angry on Horizon. Begging him to come with them as the Normandy died around them. Terrified on Virmire. Saluting him on the bridge. ]

"I have always loved you," one of them said, and it was enough.

There was burst of blinding light and thunderous sound as Shepard suddenly cut down his twin, and he went flying, skidding across the floor. The tiles collapsed under his feet, the yawning crevasse opening up beneath them, and then Kaidan was there, holding him tight, pulling him to safety.

Across the room, he saw his double's corpse vanish through the flying dust. In its place was a sad, ghostly child. "I'm Commander Shepard. And I beat you," Shepard said, memories tumbling into his mind as the Castle broke apart. His hand tightened hard on Kaidan's. "*WE* beat you."

"John, you have to go now." Kaidan shook him, pointing up to the sky opening above, flashing red and green and blue like a million diamonds in the sun. "We both know this is goodbye."

"No. You're coming too. I'm not leaving you behind." Shepard pulled them both standing. "Come on, we can..."

"Shepard. I'm not real. None of this is." Kaidan cupped his face, gently running a thumb over Shepard's lips. "Go."

"You're real enough for me." Shepard whispered over the din, but the light was already pulling him. "KAIDAN~!" He gripped the other man's blue cloak as tightly as he could, but the force was too great, dragging him away, screaming Kaidan's name.

And then there was nothing.

~~

**THIRTEEN**

At first, he expected to be lying in the rubble at the foot of the mountain. Everything hurt like it had before.

But there was no stony ground or storm roiling above. Just a hospital bed and the soft beeping of a monitor. And a woman's groan.

"Goddess... Shepard, you're awake!" It took him a moment, waiting for his eyes and his brain to re-engage with each other, and he blinked, taking in Liara's exhausted face.

"Liara." His voice was small and broken and his throat was achingly dry. "What...?"

"Isn't that just the damnedest thing." Garrus snorted behind her, scratching at one of his scars. "It worked. Shepard, your head is an incredibly strange place."

Shepard tried to focus on the others. Grunt and Samara. Tali. Javik. All of them. All of them were there. All of them except...

Someone was holding a cup of water to his lips and he took a sip, almost gagging as he did. They were all talking at once, until Zaeed shot a hole in the ceiling, quieting everyone in the room.

"You've been in a coma for several months." Liara fussed over him as Samara dragged the old merc out of the room. "It was a risk, but in some cases, an asari can join a number of minds together. You were.. you were lost inside yourself, I tried to insert the others into the trap your mind wove for itself... We've been trying to lead you out for hours."

"Kaidan." Shepard tried to sit up, but his body refused to comply. Disgusted, he flopped back, licking his cracked lips. "Where's..."

"Shepard, there wasn't... Kaidan isn't...." Garrus started, and immediately stopped as Tali elbowed him.

"Shepard, he..." Liara brushed a hair off of Shepard's forehead, and he watched as she and Garrus and Tali shared a silent conversation before she turned back to him. "I'm so sorry, Shepard. He.  During the final push, there was Harbinger... and..."

"No. I said. I said I wouldn't..." Shepard pushed her away with all of his meagre strength. "He was there. He was there with... with everyone."

"In my cycle, my ancestors believed the spirits of our dead watched over us. We learned it was only the imprint they left on us." Javik came to stand by Liara, his hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps your soldier left an imprint on you."

"I'd like to be... alone. For a little while." Shepard rasped, hands twitching at his sides as his friends retreated.

There was something in one of them. A scrap of cloth that he slowly brought close, turning it over in his fingers. Soft and rough - a fragment of blue wool that had sheltered him from the cold and shielded him from the sharp stones.

"Please wait a little while longer," Shepard whispered, bringing it to his lips. "I'll find you again. You're real enough for me."

 


End file.
